Читать книгу The Nanny's Texas Christmas - Lee Tobin McClain - Страница 13
ОглавлениеThe next afternoon, Lana Alvarez looked at the large school clock and frowned. Her nervousness was turning into annoyance.
Flint Rawlings was late.
“Still here?” Rhetta Douglass, the other first-grade teacher, stuck her dreadlocked head through the door and then walked in. “Girl, it’s four fifteen on a Friday. This place is empty. Go home! Get a life!”
“Parent conference.” Lana wrinkled her nose. If Rhetta only knew how little of a life Lana had, she’d probably laugh...and then invite her over.
Lana and Rhetta had both started as new teachers this year, and they were becoming friends, but Rhetta had a husband and twin three-year-old sons. She didn’t need Lana horning in on her family time.
Rhetta put down her bags, bulging with student work and supplies, and came over to perch on the edge of Lana’s desk. “Who schedules a conference at four fifteen on the one day we’re allowed to leave early? You better look out, or I’m going to sign you up for Cowboy Singles-dot-com.”
Waving a hand back and forth and laughing, Lana leaned back in her teacher’s chair. “Not going there. And I’m about to leave. I didn’t schedule the conference for four fifteen. The parent is—”
At that moment Flint Rawlings appeared in the doorway, taking off his hat and running a hand through messy blond hair. “Sorry I’m late.” His well-worn boots, plaid shirt and jeans proclaimed he’d come straight from the ranch.
Rhetta raised an eyebrow at Lana. “On second thought, you may not need that website after all,” she murmured, and headed over toward her things. She waved at Flint as she walked out the door.
Lana crossed the room to greet Flint, hoping he hadn’t heard that Cowboy Singles remark. “Come in, Mr. Rawlings.” She led the way back through the classroom to the teacher’s desk up front.
Although she’d already put an adult-sized metal folding chair beside her desk, anticipating Flint’s visit, it didn’t seem large enough for the rugged rancher. Maybe it was the fact that she was used to males of the first-grade variety, but Flint Rawlings seemed to overwhelm the room by his very presence.
“Thank you for—”
“I’m sorry about—”
They both stopped. “Go ahead,” Lana said, gesturing for Flint to finish.
He shook his head. “Nothing important. It’s just, we had a little episode up at the ranch. That’s why I’m late. If you need to reschedule, it’s fine.”
It sounded like he wanted her to reschedule. Really? Wasn’t he concerned about his son? “I think the situation is important enough that we’d better discuss it now.”
“That’s fine, then. What’s going on?” He propped a booted foot on one knee and then set it down again. Like he was trying to get comfortable, or...
He wiped a bandanna across his forehead, and understanding struck Lana. He was nervous! The manly Flint Rawlings was sweating bullets in the classroom of his son’s first-grade teacher.
It was a phenomenon she’d seen in her previous job, too. Lots of parents had anxiety around teachers, usually a result of bad childhood experiences or just excessive worry about their children. Whatever was the case with Flint, the realization siphoned off some of her annoyance.
She crossed her legs, folded her hands and faced him. “So, we had some trouble with Logan yesterday.”
“What sort of trouble?” He raised his eyes from the floor—or had he been looking at her legs?—and frowned. “If it was disrespect—”
“Not exactly. Hear me out.” She picked up a pencil and tapped it on the table, end over end, eraser and then point. “During our one-on-one reading time, he refused to read. Just clamped his mouth shut and wouldn’t say anything.”
“That’s funny.” Flint looked puzzled. “He likes to look through picture books at home, and he’s always pointing out words he recognizes on signs and such.”
“I’m glad you have books for him at home. That’s so important.” She smiled at the man, wanting to put him at ease. “He usually enjoys reading here, too. He’s definitely ahead of the curve in the subject. But yesterday, nothing.”
“I’ll talk to him.” Flint scooted his chair back as if the conference was over.
She folded her arms. “There’s more.”
“What else?” he asked, visibly forcing himself to sit still and focus.
“After reading time, he knocked over a bucket of erasers.” She nodded over to them, now neatly atop a stand beside the chalkboard. “He refused to pick them up. Just crossed his arms over his chest and shook his head. I thought about sending him to the principal, but—”
“What?” Flint half rose from the chair. “The principal? Why am I only now hearing about this?”
“I called yesterday,” Lana reminded him, “and offered you a choice of conference times. This was the earliest one that worked for you.” She emphasized the last word slightly.
“Right. Go on.”
“After I kept Logan in at recess and talked to him, I decided I should get in touch with you before bringing the principal into the picture. Didn’t Logan tell you about any of this?”
Flint shook his head slowly. “Not a word. Is that all?” He looked at her and sank back into the chair. “That’s not all, is it.” It was a statement, not a question.
“If that were all, I wouldn’t have called you.” This was the hardest part, but it needed to be said. “During our conversation at recess, he refused to apologize. I asked some questions, tried to figure out what was going on with him—because this behavior was pretty unusual for Logan—but he wouldn’t answer. Until...” She paused.
Flint’s blue eyes were on her. For better or worse, she had his attention now.
“He wanted to know if he was in enough trouble to be sent to live with the other boys at the main ranch house.”
Flint closed his eyes for a minute and then opened them.
“When I said no, of course not, he burst into tears. He kept asking, ‘What do I have to do to get to live there?’”
* * *
Flint stared at Lana, trying to conceal the emotions that were churning in his gut. Not only did he feel like a failure as a father, but he ached for his son.
What Logan really wanted was a mother, a family, company his own age instead of an elderly nanny who tried to get him to sit still and watch TV with her. He wanted attention, not constant scolding from his dad as he followed him around the barn, getting in the way and causing trouble.
Flint wanted those things for Logan, too.
But unfortunately for both of them, none of what Logan wanted was in the cards for him. Not now, and not in the foreseeable future. “I’ll talk to him,” Flint said as soon as he could control his voice.
“That’s great, but I’m not sure it’s enough,” Lana said gently. “I might be able to help, if you can let me in on some of the things Logan’s struggling with.”
The sympathy on her face just made him feel worse. He hardened his voice. Toughened up his heart. “Bottom line,” he said, “Logan’s struggling with not having a mother. That can’t be helped. And since his nanny quit, he needs something more after school.”
Lana nodded, looking a little skeptical.
“I’m trying to find him some better playmates,” Flint defended himself. “And I’ve put out feelers about another nanny.”
“I wonder if what he might need,” she said, still sounding gentle, “is more attention from you.”
That, on top of how stressed-out he already felt, made him mad. “I have a demanding job. I don’t get off at three thirty like a teacher does!”
She looked pointedly up at the clock, now creeping toward five. “A teacher’s work doesn’t end when the students go home, but that’s not the issue.” She leaned back and looked at him narrowly, tapping a pencil on the desk. “May I be honest, Mr. Rawlings?”
“Doesn’t seem like you have a problem with that.”
“When it’s called for. Mr. Rawlings, there were three children whose parents didn’t come to Open House. Two were from migrant families who were trying to get here when their truck broke down on the road outside town. The other was Logan.” She paused, letting that sink in good and deep, and then spoke again. “All three of them cried the next day when the other children were sharing about their families’ reactions to Open House.”
Flint just looked at her, absorbing the criticism in her words and her expression. Yep, a failure as a father.
“Now, I happen to know the ranch went on lockdown that night. I know there were problems with the boys, and you probably had to help. Logan knows that, too,” she said. “In his mind, at least. But maybe not in his heart.”
Flint let his head drop into his hands and stared down at the floor. He loved Logan more than he’d ever loved anyone, but according to Miss Lana Alvarez, he wasn’t doing a very good job of showing it.
“The other two families who missed Open House got in touch to find out if there was another way to be involved with the school. I had one mother, who’s a great cook, bring in flan for our Harvest Celebration. The other child’s parents both work in the fields, possibly even longer hours than you work.”
Was that sarcasm in her voice? He felt too guilty to be sure.
“But his grandpa, who’s too disabled for farmwork, is helping me tutor the kids who need help in reading, one day a week before school.”
He looked up at her then, spread his hands. “I’ll talk to Logan about his behavior,” he said. More like, talk at him. He needed to show how much he cared, not just lecture his son. “And I’ll come to...whatever I’m supposed to come to, whatever you recommend, here at the school.”
“We always need parents to help with holiday parties,” she said, a dimple tugging at her cheek. “Ours is the last hour of the last day before Christmas break. But... I don’t suppose you’d want to help with that. It would be a pretty demanding first activity with the kids.”
Was she making fun of him or issuing a challenge? He narrowed his eyes at her. “You don’t think I can do it, do you?”
She raised a very pretty eyebrow and shrugged, smiling openly now. “Let’s just say the kids are pretty rowdy then. The parents who help have to plan a lot of activities.”
Yeah, and he had no idea what kind of activities worked for first-graders, which was a pretty sad statement in itself, since he was the father of one.
But Lana Alvarez’s amused gaze made him want to rise to the challenge. “You’re on. When is it?”
“A week from Wednesday. Two o’clock.”
He pulled out his phone and punched in the date and time, marking it “high priority.”
“But meanwhile,” she said, “he may need more attention at home than you’re able to give him, with your responsibilities. I’ll ask around and see if anyone knows of a nanny.”
“No.” Flint shook his head. “If he needs more attention, he can get it from me.”
“If you’re sure,” she said in a voice that made it clear she had her doubts.
He really wanted to get out of here, but for Logan’s sake, he forced himself to ask for help. “Is there...” He cleared his throat. “Is there anything I could do now to make it a little better? Show him I’ve at least seen his classroom?”
She tipped her head to one side. “Hmm. Want to leave a note in his desk for him to find on Monday?”
Logan would love that. Flint took the paper and felt-tipped pen she pushed toward him, jotted a quick note, and went to put it in Logan’s desk.
On an impulse, he squeezed himself into the tiny chair connected to the desk and, holding his phone out, took a picture of himself.
“Logan’s going to love seeing that,” Lana said. “But I’m not sure you’re going to be able to get out of there.”
Sure enough, he had a hard time unfolding himself out of the cramped little desk.
When he stood up, she did, too, and he realized that her bag, bulging with papers, was packed and ready to go. He’d kept her at school overtime.
“Let me help you with that,” he offered, holding out a hand.
She shook her head. “It’s fine. I’m used to carrying it.”
“That doesn’t mean you can’t accept a little help.”
“It’s fine,” she repeated.
So the lady was independent. Didn’t want help.
Or maybe she just didn’t want help from him.
They walked together through the deserted hallways. Outside, the sun was setting in a bank of pink-and-gold clouds. His truck was the only vehicle left in the parking lot. “I’m sorry I kept you late,” he said, “and I appreciate your taking the time to meet with me. Where’s your car?”
She clapped a hand to her forehead. “In the shop, and I forgot about it. I was going to grab a ride with Rhetta.” She shrugged. “Oh, well, I need the exercise. See you soon, Mr. Rawlings. Don’t hesitate to contact me if you have any questions.”
“You can call me Flint,” he said, “and I’ll give you a ride home. Where do you live?” He remembered someone telling him that Lana had grown up around here, and he wondered if she lived with her folks.
“Call me Lana, and I’m not going home. I’m going to the church.”
“On a Friday night?” That surprised him. He would’ve thought someone as pretty as Lana would have her choice of dates. What was wrong with the cowboys around here?
Seeming to read his line of thought, she blushed. “I’m not much for the roadhouse or the karaoke place. And a lot of my friends are married and home with their families so I...” She trailed off, looking away with a forced laugh. “What can I say? I’ve spent the last three Friday nights helping Marnie Binder sort stuff for the Christmas bazaar.”
Flint filed that away, trying to ignore the pleasure her words gave him. No reason for him to care what Lana Alvarez did with her evenings. Pretty young women were poison to him.
But on the other hand, Lana sounded a little lonely. And he’d care about any lonely person; he had that much Christian faith left. “What about your folks? I thought you grew up around here.”
“They’re gone. Car accident when I was a teenager. It’s just me.”
“I’m sorry.” Her matter-of-fact tone tugged at his heart. Lana Alvarez was even more alone than he was. And she seemed like a family type. Good with kids. She ought to be happily married, not heading off to church alone.
“Come on,” he said. “I’ll drive you to the church. I have a few things to drop off for the Christmas bazaar, myself.”
* * *
Lana found the ride to the church a little awkward. Partly because this handsome man had discovered that she had no dates and no exciting social life, and he was clearly surprised. He probably found her pitiful.
He must have found their silence awkward, too, because he flipped on the radio. She was expecting country music, but to her surprise, the sound of a classical violin concerto filled the cab of the truck.
“Vivaldi?” she asked, recognizing the tune from her music history course in college.
He glanced over at her and nodded. “Calms me down,” he said a bit sheepishly.
“Does that, too?” She pointed at the baby picture of Logan that dangled from his key chain.
He glanced down at it, and his jaw tightened. Which was a weird reaction to a picture of one’s child. Most people gushed about such precious mementos.
Not Flint. “That’s to remind me to keep my priorities straight,” he gritted out.
“Oh?”
“Yeah.” He reached over and turned up the radio, his eyes firmly on the road.
Well, okay then. Lana turned and looked out the window, pretending great interest in the brown grass and blue sky, and then in the storefronts that dotted Haven’s tiny downtown.
When they pulled up to the little white church, Lana hurried to get out of the truck before Flint could open the door for her, but her heavy bag of paperwork made her lurch awkwardly as she tried to climb down from the high cab. Flint was there instantly, steadying her with a hand on her elbow. He didn’t let go until she was safely on the ground.
She pulled away, her heart thudding ridiculously. What was wrong with her?
He reached for her heavy attaché case. “I can carry that.”
“No, it’s fine.” She kept her hold on it. Even gave it a little tug.
He let go but studied her for a moment like she was a puzzle he needed to solve. “Okay, Miss Alvarez.” Then he walked around to the back of the pickup and pulled out a large wood beam. He hoisted it to one shoulder. “Ready?”
Wow. He was strong. “Sure. Do you want me to...need me to carry something?”
He gave her that puzzle-solving look again. “Yeah, pick up that other beam, would you?”
She turned, stood on tiptoe and peeked into the bed of the truck, where another large beam rested. It had to weigh over a hundred pounds. She glanced at him. Was he serious?
A smile tugged at the corner of his mouth. “That was a joke, Lana. Come on.”
A joke. He’d made a joke.
She held the doors for him to carry the beam inside. When they reached the church’s fellowship area, Marnie Binder was bending over a box of colorful fabric. She straightened up and shook back her gray curls, her face breaking into a wide smile. “Well, look there,” she said. “Two of my favorite people in Texas, coming in together.”
Lana smiled, put down her things, and submitted to the woman’s big hug. As the ranch cook and an active volunteer in the church, Marnie mothered everyone. She and Lana had gotten close quickly when Lana had returned to town. Since Marnie had no kids and Lana had lost her mother, the relationship suited both of them.
Lana admired the craft kits Marnie was making for the younger kids at the craft bazaar and laughed at the older woman’s description of talking a shop manager into giving her scrap fabric for free.
Flint set down the beam and disappeared, returning a moment later with the other beam on his shoulder, stacking it beside some other building materials in one corner of the hall.
Marnie surveyed them both fondly. “I’m so glad you two are dating. This is nice! Where are you headed tonight?”
“We’re not dating!” Lana exclaimed.
“I just gave Lana a ride,” Flint said quickly.
Her face felt hot. She couldn’t look at Flint. For some reason, Marnie’s mistake was hard to laugh off.
“I’m outta here.” Flint lifted his hands and took two steps back. He sounded just as embarrassed—and uninterested—as Lana was herself.
Talk about a blow to the ego.
“You’ll make sure she gets home all right?” Flint asked Marnie in a gruff voice, once he’d gotten to the doorway of the big room. “Her car’s at the shop.”
“Of course.” Marnie gave him a knowing look. “That’s sweet you’re so protective.”
Flint lifted his eyes to the ceiling, turned around, and left the church.
The moment he was out the door, Marnie clapped her hands and turned to Lana. “I don’t know why I didn’t think of it before,” she said. “You two would be perfect together! Both single, both good-looking, both responsible adults. You love children, and Flint needs someone to help with Logan. You’re both—”
“Marnie! Stop!” Lana waved her hands to halt the flow of words. Now that Flint was gone, she could laugh. “That’s completely ridiculous.”
“Why? He’s a good, churchgoing man. At least...” A rare frown crossed the woman’s face.
“What?”
“I’m trying to think when it was that Flint came back to church.” She started sorting paintable wooden Christmas ornaments into bins, looking thoughtful. “You know, I think it was when Logan got big enough to notice. For a while after his big trouble, when Logan was a baby, Flint stayed away from church. But that was understandable.”
Lana knew she shouldn’t ask, but she couldn’t resist being interested in the gruff cowboy’s history. “What was his big trouble, anyway?”
“You haven’t heard?” Marnie shook her head, clucking her tongue. “What a shame. That young wife of his. If I’d seen her leaving, I’d have stopped her and knocked some sense right into her head.”
“Leaving Flint?”
“And her newborn baby. No sooner had she recovered from childbirth than she was out of Haven, and hasn’t been back since.”
“Oh, wow!” Lana stared at Marnie. “Doesn’t she even see Logan?”
“Nope.”
“That’s awful!”
“I know.” Marnie put down a wooden ornament extra hard, making a loud thwack. “Wants nothing to do with him, apparently. I just don’t understand that. I was never blessed with children, but if I had been, you can be sure I’d never leave them feeling unloved, like that poor Logan.”
“How could she do that? Logan’s the sweetest kid around, and Flint...” She trailed off. Flint certainly wasn’t a talker, and maybe he was rough around the edges, but he seemed basically kind and protective. Wouldn’t anyone want to stick together with someone like Flint?
Marnie gave her a sly look. “Yes, speaking of Flint. He’s handsome, isn’t he? Even my niece, who’s sixteen and hates everyone, calls Flint a hottie.”
“He is good-looking,” Lana admitted.
“So, you should think about going out with him.”
Lana made a big time-out sign with her arms. “Not me. He may be a hottie, like your niece says, but I don’t like hotties.”
“Why not? Oh.” Understanding dawned on Marnie’s broad face. “I heard something about your, um, engagement.”
Lana couldn’t help the surge of heat that rose in her cheeks. “It’s all right. You can say it. I’m sure everyone in town knows.” Restless, she started moving paintbrushes from one can to another. “It happened more than six months ago. I should be over it.”
Marnie came around the table and put an arm around her. “Getting left at the altar must have been a real big hurt. I’m so sorry it happened to you.”
Lana held herself stiff for a minute, but Marnie just patted her shoulder and kept on hugging, and finally, Lana let herself be comforted. Somehow, Marnie knew just what she needed.
Lana’s girlfriends had been mad on her behalf, and the relatives who’d helped plan the wedding had gotten busy handling everything, sending the guests home, donating the food to a local homeless shelter, taking down the decorations.
Everyone had been kind to Lana, sympathetic, but in passing. No one knew quite what to say to a jilted bride.
But now, tonight, Marnie’s sympathy was all for her, and Lana let herself cry a little on the older woman’s comfortable shoulder. When she’d settled down, Marnie urged her into a chair and brought her a cup of tea.
“I’m sure it was awful and embarrassing.” Marnie brought a couple of Christmas cookies from the church kitchen and put them on a napkin in front of Lana. “But you’ll move past it.”
“It’s not an easy thing to get past,” Lana said, and blew her nose.
“There, now. Eat a cookie. That’s right. Those middle-school students won’t miss a couple of cookies. The ladies made enough for an army.”
Lana sipped tea and wiped the mascara from beneath her eyes. “Sorry, Marnie. I’m sure you didn’t expect your Friday night to involve counseling.”
“Not the first time.” Marnie patted her hand. “God’s house is a good place to work through your sadness and get a new perspective. You can get over this, Lana. You can find love again.”
Lana broke off a piece of cookie and crumbled it over the napkin. “Not going there again. I’m a disaster with men. I’m too needy.”
“You’re the opposite of needy! You’re always doing for others. And anyway, you’re way too young to decide on a life of celibacy.”
“I may be young, but some things, I know.”
“You’ve had a lot of losses for someone so young,” Marnie said, studying her thoughtfully. “You had to learn early that nothing in this world is permanent. And that’s true. We only see through a glass darkly, like the good book says. But that doesn’t mean we shouldn’t enjoy this life and the people around us.”
Lana smiled at the woman who was trying so hard to comfort her. “I do enjoy the people around me. I love the kids. And I’m blessed with friends like you.”
“And the Lord meets your basic needs, right? Better than any human. But still...” Marnie sighed and put a hand over her heart. “There’s nothing like the love of a good man.”
Lana wouldn’t know, but her friend’s comment reminded her to get out of her own concerns. Marnie was a widow and had had plenty of losses herself. “Tell me about Oscar,” she said. “That was your husband’s name, right?”
And looking at the pictures Marnie pulled up on her phone, listening to the stories of storms they’d weathered, vacations they’d shared, the home they’d built together, made Lana feel the tiniest spark of hopeless longing. Maybe there was a small chance that someday, somehow, she’d find love herself.
Maybe even with someone a little bit like Flint Rawlings.
But, no. No way. He was cranky, struggling to care for his son, emotionally repressed. A heartache waiting to happen.
The sound of organ music drifted from upstairs, along with some laughter; musicians practicing for Sunday’s service, no doubt. Lana breathed in the piney scent from evergreen branches brought in to decorate the church and drank down the rest of her tea, warm and comforting with its hint of lemon and mint.
She busied herself with pushing boxes of glue and scissors and sewing supplies across the room and carrying heavy containers of donated items out from the storage closet. She worked up a sweat and tried not to think.
An hour later, after they’d finished their work and were leaving the church, Marnie stopped still. “I just had the best idea.”
“What’s that?”
“Did you hear that Flint Rawlings’s nanny quit this week?”
“Uh-huh.”
“Well, you should become Flint Rawlings’s temporary nanny!” Marnie’s face broke into a broad smile. “Sometimes, I’m a genius.”
“Marnie! Would you stop with the matchmaking?”
“No, I’m serious. School’s almost out, right? And I’ve been worrying about how you’re going to spend the holidays, alone as you are. You could spend time at the ranch, help a little boy who needs it, and, well, just be a part of things. A ranch at Christmas is a wonderful place.”
Marnie’s words created a vision inside Lana. Having people around her at Christmas, gathering around the table or the fire, helping out Logan...seeing Flint on a daily basis... “No. That wouldn’t work.”
“Why not?”
“Just...it wouldn’t, okay?” All of a sudden, Lana felt like the church was too warm and small. She needed air. “You know what, I think I’m going to walk home, all right?” Without waiting for Marnie to answer, she hurried out of the church, bag in hand, and strode rapidly in the direction of her lonely little apartment where fairy-tale dreams wouldn’t disturb the small, safe life she was trying to build for herself.
